The Apartment

Yasi and Sadie considered the apartment. They couldn’t have afforded a furnished apartment, of course, but the bare walls and empty floors were still a lot to take in.

“We’re adults now,” said Yasi, “and this is what young professionals do – they make a house a home with stuff.”

“Good stuff,” said Sadie.

“Of course,” said Yasi.

So they hit the town. Thrift shops, garden stores. They bought tea towels with ferns on them, a couch and a paisley couch cover, fractal doilies, end tables, tasteful coffee-table books filled with twilit photos of the homes Frank Lloyd Wright had designed. They put art prints on the walls and a rug with Richard Nixon’s face on it for the doormat. There were curtains and a tasteful toilet paper roll stand in the bathroom. It was a work in progress for the entire year they lived there, and when the city sometimes wore them down they threw themselves into decorating the apartment, as if to reassure themselves that this was home and they belonged here.

After a year, they found a new place in a better neighborhood, and they didn’t renew the lease. The landlord brought a prospective tenant up to the apartment once when they were both still living there, which was kind of awkward but was over quickly. But as the landlord and the prospective tenant left and shut the door, Yasi and Sadie could still here them talking.

“They’ve done such a nice job decorating,” said the prospective tenant.

“They’re both talented young professionals, can’t you tell?” said the landlord.

Once the two of them left, Sadie looked at Yasi. “Ain’t it the truth, thought?” she said.


Written on 4/16/16 at Artawake for two friends who were about to move to a big city together.

The Apartment